


Contemporaries

by howterrifying



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlolly - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: Mycroft discovers a promising young pathology major and invites her to join his team, much to the initial chagrin of his impossibly difficult younger brother.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	Contemporaries

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of AU? As I continue to reacquaint myself with this ship due to my very, very long writing absence, I seem drawn to their origin stories and found myself wanting to explore them. For some reason, I was feeling very uni!Lock and decided, yes, let’s do this. And not only is it uni!Lock but Mycroftcentric-uni!Lock. If there’s one thing I’ve not lost touch with, it is my love for Mycroft Holmes. I hope you’ll enjoy this terribly long but rather fun piece. I certainly had fun writing it :) x

**Contemporaries**  
  
The brothers barely looked alike, the only physical similarity being their relatively similar heights. Apart from the fact that they shared the same residential address, the same family name and, well, fairly similar heights, one would never have assumed they were brothers.   
  
There was their genius, of course. Those who did have the fortune (or sometimes misfortune) of running into either of the Holmes brothers would immediately realise they _were_ of the same make. The depth of their observations and the speed of their deductions almost always left a mark. An encounter with a Holmes brother would not be an easy one to forget.   
  
Mycroft, slightly past his mid-twenties and already with several doctorates to his name, was now working at the university. Sherlock was in his second year but had already zoomed ahead and could have graduated that very year if he had wanted to. However, his extra-curricular activity, of which he was the only member, slowed him down to remain ‘on track’ with his fellow university mates. Solving crimes was very time-consuming and Sherlock was a most dedicated ‘club’ member.   
  
The brothers rarely interacted. It was better this way for all parties included. Thankfully, their spheres rarely collided. In fact, Mycroft was often away from the university altogether, finding himself naturally propelled into various government boards and committees.   
  
It was a rare afternoon that Mycroft found himself back on campus. As he sat in his office reviewing the minutes of a recent meeting, there came a quiet knock at his open office door, causing him to look up from his documents.   
  
“Ah, you must be Ms Hooper,” he remarked with a polite smile.   
  
One of the most promising pathology students of her year, Molly Hooper, walked into his office and reached for his extended hand and shook it.   
  
“It’s very good to meet you, Mr Holmes,” she began before taking her seat.   
“Very good to meet you too,” he replied, “I have heard a lot about you.”  
“I trust you’ve read the proposal I’ve sent you?” asked Molly, nervously gripping the edge of her seat.   
“Yes, some new lab equipment for the…” he began flipping through her proposal file that he had retrieved, “The…Forensics Society.”  
“We decided to keep the name simple,” said Molly.  
“Simplicity is always best, Ms Hooper. So I appreciate that,” Mycroft remarked with a nod.   
  
Mycroft closed the proposal file and cleared his throat. He adjusted his seat a little forward and looked right at Molly.   
  
“Your proposal caught my eye, Ms Hooper, which is why I have called you in.”  
  
Molly’s eyes widened in surprise. She had not been expecting to hear that. Did not everybody have to come in to meet Mr Holmes at some point to argue the case for their proposals to be approved?  
  
“Oh, I see,” was all Molly could muster for the moment.   
  
Mycroft smiled, slightly amused at her reaction. He then reached for another file on his desk and presented it to her.   
  
“I have now a proposal for _you_ , Ms Hooper. One that I sincerely hope you would accept,” Mycroft continued.   
  
Molly took the file from him and began flipping through its documents. Her eyes widened like they had moments earlier except it was no longer in surprise but in disbelief.   
  
“Are you…offering me a job, Mr Holmes?” asked Molly, her eyes still large from incredulity.  
“I most certainly am, Ms Hooper. I discovered, from your proposal, that it would be a real waste of your talents if you merely utilised them within The Forensics Society. Besides, the equipment you had asked for… I think we could put them to some _really_ good use. Do you not think so?”  
  
Molly struggled to form a response to this resoundingly unexpected turn of events. She flipped back to the first page of Mycroft’s proposal and looked though it again, as though to check if she had misinterpreted any part of it.   
  
“There is no mistake, Ms Hooper,” said Mycroft, as though reading her mind, “I am offering you a job in, well, I suppose you could call it a ‘club’ of my own.”  
  
Molly processed his spoken words and the typed ones before her, frowning but only to contain the surge of excitement in her veins. Her head felt like it was quite about to burst. Eventually, her frown disappeared and a small smile grew.  
  
“I presume that’s a _yes_ ?” asked Mycroft.   
“Yes, Mr Holmes,” said Molly at last, “I accept.”  
  
++  
  
It had been a busy few months for Molly Hooper, what with setting up the new laboratory equipment and running the club with her fellow forensics enthusiasts. However, the real source of her busyness had been the work she was now doing with Mycroft’s team.   
  
Although much of this team and its work was shrouded in mystery, she had been plunged right into Mycroft’s team of consultants and forensic pathologists on some very interesting cases. Molly had lost count of the number of non-disclosure agreements she had had to sign each time before beginning work on a new case.  
  
It was a Saturday afternoon that Molly found herself at one of Mycroft’s laboratories in an obscure government building, the type that required an inordinate amount of security screening before she could even step foot into the main lobby. She was used to it by now, however, and breezed through it all to resume the case she was currently working on.   
  
She and the team were busy reviewing an anomaly in the dyed hair of a recently murdered politician when the doors to their lab opened with an uncharacteristically loud bang.   
  
“Is the new hematology analyser here yet?” came a brusque male voice.   
  
The team looked up at the interruption only to resume their discussion as though nothing had happened. Molly was puzzled by their response and felt slightly awkward that a question had been unanswered.   
  
“Um, yes. It arrived at noon yesterday,” she answered.   
  
Before she knew it, the figure that had stormed into the lab came storming towards her, eyeing her curiously as he approached.   
  
“You’re new,” came that same voice.   
“And you’re Sherlock Holmes,” said Molly, “Pleased to meet you.”  
“How do you know who I am?” he asked, frowning.   
“We go to the same university. A friend of mine fancied you for a while. You both took that elective Photomolecular science module last semester,” Molly replied matter-of-factly. “Also, your brother did tell me to expect you.”  
  
Sherlock made a noise that sounded like a mix of a scoff and a laugh as he strode around the lab looking for the machine that had been the reason for his visit.   
  
“Would you like to see it?” Molly asked, smiling politely at her university contemporary.   
  
The team looked up from their discussion, a little aghast that she was entertaining the whims of their big boss’ infamous younger brother. Yet, neither of them said a word, deciding that silence was the safest response around the rather volatile younger Holmes brother.   
  
“I should like to _use_ it,” Sherlock retorted.   
“Ah, I cannot allow that at the moment, I’m afraid. Sorry about that,” said Molly, her polite smile still perfectly in place.   
  
The tall and impatient figure of Sherlock Holmes looked down at the surprisingly unfazed pathologist-in-training who stood before him.   
  
“Who are you?” he asked   
“She’s in _charge_ ,” came the voice of Mycroft Holmes who, unlike his brother, had entered the laboratory virtually unnoticed.   
“Why are you down here?” Sherlock asked, changing the subject.   
“Security has been told to inform me the moment you step into my buildings, in particular my laboratories, or have you forgotten?”   
  
Sherlock made that same scoffing noise again as he walked away from his brother, still trying to look for the new machine amongst the hundreds of state-of-the-art equipment in the enormous laboratory.   
  
“Even if you found it,” Mycroft continued, “You couldn’t operate it. Only Ms Hooper has the authorisation codes to power it up.”  
“So that’s your name. Ms Hooper,” Sherlock repeated, ignoring his brother and walking back towards Molly.   
“Just _Molly_ is fine,” she answered back coolly.   
  
Sherlock towered over Molly but did not overshadow her in the least. She remained where she was, with that steadiness in her eyes that was starting to unnerve him.   
  
“I was hoping you wouldn’t be interrupted like this, Ms Hooper. I do apologise,” said Mycroft.  
“It’s no matter, Mr Holmes. Besides, you _did_ warn me,” she replied with a laugh.   
  
That laugh of hers bothered Sherlock. It bothered him because it was clear _she_ was not bothered at all by his presence or his intrusion into her workspace. Sherlock was not used to a reaction like hers.   
  
“Do you need him removed?” asked Mycroft.  
“No, it’s all right, Mr Holmes. I think I can handle him,” Molly replied, looking right back at Sherlock who had not once removed his gaze from her.   
“If you say so,” said Mycroft with a parting nod before exiting the laboratory.  
  
The younger Holmes brother seemed rooted where he was, staring hard at Molly who very calmly adjusted her crisp white lab coat.   
  
“So, Sherlock Holmes…” Molly began.   
  
He paused, uncertain of how to respond because of how directly she had addressed him.   
  
“Y-yes?” he answered at last.   
“I’ll show you the machine,” she said, her bright eyes shining at him, “And if you keep to the rules of my lab, maybe I _will_ let you use it.”  
  
Her words amused Sherlock in a way he had never experienced. There was a boldness in the calm of her voice. Her gaze never once wavered and Sherlock found himself beginning to admire it somewhat.   
  
“Do we have an agreement, Sherlock Holmes?” asked Molly.   
  
Sherlock saw that she had stretched her hand out, awaiting his response. With a grin, he took it, shaking it firmly.   
  
“I believe we do, Ms Hooper,” said Sherlock.  
“I told you,” Molly said with a small smile, “ _Molly_ will do just fine.”  
  
++  
  
To everyone’s surprise, the day had gone by and Sherlock Holmes had not broken a single one of Molly’s ‘lab-keeping’ rules. He seemed to have put aside the initial case he had come in with and earned his way into participating in the international murder case they were investigating.   
  
“Your brother might not be too pleased about this,” said Molly with a glint in her eyes, “But I think you’ve earned this.”  
  
She headed to one of her open laptops and pulled up a recent toxicology report and gestured for Sherlock to join her. The aspiring detective rushed to where she was seated and pored over the report greedily.   
  
“Your analysis is… _incredible_ ,” Sherlock murmured, not realising he had just praised someone out loud. Someone who was not himself.   
“Thank you,” Molly replied in amusement.   
  
Her response made him realise he _had_ spoken out loud and it caused his mind to stumble a little.   
  
“Since you’ve been so helpful with our blood samples, perhaps you’d like a go at the hematology analyser now?” asked Molly, helping him change the subject.   
“Oh, right, yes… the evidence I’d brought from the robbery,” he said, heading to where his coat was hanging.  
  
Sherlock found his coat and rummaged through one of its deep pockets, pulling out a small ziplocked bag with the evidence he had found at his crime scene. As he looked at it, the magnitude of Molly’s work and her achievement here in this lab alone really struck him. _Who was she?_ He frowned as he thought to himself. How was it that their paths had crossed only now?   
  
“Molly…” he said, returning the evidence back into his coat pocket.  
“Hmm?” she answered, her eyes still glued to her laptop screen.   
“Have _we_ taken any modules together?” asked Sherlock, walking back towards her.   
“I don’t think so,” she replied, still typing away at her laptop.   
“But we have so much in common, how is that possible?”  
  
His words stopped her in her tracks, her hands suspended above her keyboard as her typing came to a halt.  
  
“There are many others who share our interests, Sherlock,” said Molly, smiling. “But I’m sure we would have taken a class together at some point…”  
“No, you don’t understand, Molly,” Sherlock interrupted.   
“What don’t I understand?” she asked back, puzzled.   
“We are…” He had to pause to take a breath. “We are… _the same_ .”  
  
Molly turned from her laptop to look at him, wide eyed. She was equal parts taken aback and amused. It surprised her to hear him actually say those words.   
  
“Quite the sweeping statement, Sherlock Holmes,” Molly replied with a small laugh.  
“I may not have all the facts,” he continued, “But I can’t seem to argue otherwise.”  
“No one is arguing with you…”  
“I think I’m arguing with myself…”   
  
He seemed frustrated, but Molly watched on quietly in mild fascination.   
  
“Molly,” he said, looking up sharply at her.   
“Yes, Sherlock?”   
“Work on my cases with me,” he said.  
“ _Your_ cases?”  
“I cannot pay you like Mycroft does, but we would make a good team. Your skill set and mine.”  
  
There was a moment of silence that passed between them. Sherlock, awaiting her response, uncharacteristically tense and Molly, wondering what to do with this abrupt new proposal. What _was_ it with the Holmes brothers and their penchant for throwing curveballs?  
  
“Do I have to answer you now?” said Molly at last.   
“Um…no, I suppose you don’t…” said Sherlock in atypical clumsiness.  
  
The look on his face caused Molly to chuckle softly. She shut her laptop and got off the lab stool she was sitting on.  
  
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sherlock, but it’s way past evening and the rest of the team have actually gone home,” Molly continued.   
“Oh, I…”  
“My eyes do need a bit of a break, but I promise I’ll take a look at what you have,” she said, answering him at last.   
“You will?” he asked, shocked that she had agreed.   
“We’ll see how it goes,” she remarked, smiling. “Let’s discuss this over some food. Are you hungry?”  
  
Had Molly not asked, Sherlock would not have realised how famished he was and that he quite frankly had no idea when his last meal had been. For a genius, his short-term memory for certain things was surprisingly terrible.   
  
“You’re pale as a ghost, Sherlock,” Molly said, interrupting his thoughts.   
“Food is a good idea,” he replied at last.   
“Food it is,” Molly remarked with a chuckle.   
  
++  
  
It was about eight o’clock in the morning and Sherlock had woken up and wandered into the kitchen in the home he shared with his brother. To his surprise, he found his brother seated at the breakfast table, serenely perusing the day’s newspaper.   
  
“You’re up early,” said Mycroft, his eyes not leaving the newspaper.  
“I…have things to prepare,” Sherlock answered rather tentatively.   
“Things like…breakfast?” asked Mycroft, putting the paper down and gesturing to the opposite end of the table. There lay a perfect setup of hot breakfast, coffee, tea and immaculately arranged silverware for two.   
  
Sherlock walked over to the end of the table and scanned the faultlessly prepared food and beverage. He then looked up at his brother, his eyes wide and slightly aghast at his brother’s implication.  
  
“Did you make this?” asked Sherlock.   
“Are you being rhetorical?” asked Mycroft in return.   
“How did you—”   
“Know you had a guest?” Mycroft continued for his brother.   
  
Mycroft tidied the edges of the newspaper that he had folded earlier and set it aside. He then looked up at his brother and offered a wry smile.   
  
“Ms Hooper is technically under my employ, Sherlock. And I take good care of my employees. Especially the ones that can handle _you_ .”   
  
It almost felt like a pantomime, for the moment her name had been spoken, Molly had appeared and stood at the entrance to the kitchen.  
  
“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Molly said with a smile.   
“Good morning, Ms Hooper. I hope you slept well.” Mycroft answered with a smile in return.   
“I most certainly did,” she replied, “Your brother is a very charming host.”  
“I am glad to hear of it. Please, make yourself at home,” Mycroft replied, gesturing to the food he had prepared on his brother’s behalf.   
  
The sheer normalcy of their interaction left Sherlock flabbergasted.   
  
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some meetings to chair…” said Mycroft as he got up from his seat and exited the kitchen. Once he had left, Sherlock seemed to regain part of his executive functions and proceeded to sit by Molly.   
  
“Would you like a coffee?” Molly asked, reaching for the coffee pot.  
“Please,” Sherlock replied, passing her his cup.   
  
They sat in silence, with Sherlock sipping his coffee and Molly helping herself to some scrambled eggs on toast.   
  
“Did you…tell my brother you were here?” asked Sherlock, still perplexed from the moment before.   
“No, I didn’t. But he warned me it would happen,” Molly replied, now pouring herself a coffee.   
“Warned you?”  
“Yes…” Molly continued, casually sipping her coffee, “That last night would happen. And he was right.”   
“I have to concede, my brother is _never_ wrong,” said Sherlock with a small smirk.  
“He even used your exact words,” Molly remarked, an amused glint in her eyes.   
“And what words were those?”   
“That you and I were the same.”  
  
Sherlock paused to take in her words, or more accurately, his brother’s words and he could not help but grin. It genuinely impressed Sherlock how spot on his brother always seemed to be, even though it irritated the living daylight out of him.   
  
“I _have_ learnt that there is one thing different about us,” said Sherlock, reaching for a slice of toast.   
“Oh? And what’s that?” asked Molly, intrigued.   
“My brother doesn’t seem to annoy you,” said Sherlock with a wry half-smile.  
“Are you worried I’d fancy him instead?” Molly teased, looking right at Sherlock.   
  
Sherlock quite nearly dropped his toast and looked back at her in horror. It amused Molly that his normally blank visage could register such a degree of dread. To assuage him, Molly reached for Sherlock and kissed him lightly on the cheek.   
  
“I’m joking, Sherlock,” she said.   
“Don’t make jokes, Molly,” he replied but not without returning the kiss.   
  
They continued their breakfast in silence but Sherlock’s mind continued to spin. He had not quite ascertained where Molly stood in the scheme of things, but he was quite satisfied that for now, they stood with each other.  
  
“I’ve got a bit of time after breakfast,” said Molly, finishing the last of her coffee. “Would you like me to go through the rest of your case data?”  
  
Sherlock turned to her and processed her question. That unwavering way in which she held her gaze when they spoke was something he continued to admire.   
  
“We _both_ have a bit of time after breakfast,” said Sherlock, getting up and clearing the breakfast things. “And I’d rather spend it on something else. Wouldn’t you agree?”   
  
It was Molly’s turn to process his response. She studied the look in his eyes and when she finally understood what he meant, broke into a smile.   
  
“We really _are_ the same,” she said, grinning, as she took his hand and led them both back to bed.   
  
**END  
**  
  



End file.
